


Call Shot

by bryar6



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Pool & Billiards, alcohol mention, and did too much research on pool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29265738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryar6/pseuds/bryar6
Summary: As tradition would have it, Sebastian finds himself playing pool with Sam on a late Friday night, but things take an unexpected turn when the valley's newest nuisance tumbles in from the rain.
Relationships: Abigail & Sam & Sebastian (Stardew Valley), Sebastian & Female Player (Stardew Valley), Sebastian/Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Kudos: 73





	Call Shot

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in one sitting last night, mostly as a way for me to practice writing Seb's character when he's not being all broody and I enjoyed it and thought might as well share it. We will see if I come back with this OC, lol.

“I’ve got you this time, I just know it,” Sam challenges from the far end of the pool table. He leans close to the flat, aligning his eye with the cue stick, hair flopping into his face. Sebastian shakes his head, grinning ever so slightly. 

“Like hell you do,” he replies evenly, rubbing the chalk over the top of the cue, side-eyeing his friend. His form is sloppy, leaning against the rail and his balance is clearly one nudge from toppling, but he’s trying and Sebastian supposes it’s fair enough. “Unless I scratch, it’s impossible for you to win.” 

“Ah, but you’re saying there’s a chance!” Sam beams, jumping up again, mouth twisting into a crooked smile. Abigail leans over the arm of the couch, fingers tapping as she analyzes the table. 

“Sebastian _never_ loses a game this late in. Face it Sam, it’s never happening,” she tuts, adding a nonplussed shrug. “I’ve got some _Journey of the Prairie King_ to practice, come grab me when it’s time to leave.” 

And with that, she’s up and makes her way to the two arcade games, inserting a coin and hunching over the joysticks, focused hard on the pixelated screen with her tongue pinned between her teeth. She curses quietly every few moments, but other than that, the saloon is oddly quiet for a Friday night. Pam sips in silence on her end of the bar, Elliot and Leah chat over salad, Shane’s on what seems like his fourth or fifth beer of the night. It’s peaceful though, and Sebastain will always take a relaxed night with his friends, even if that does mean exposing himself to the general public. 

“So, you going to take the shot tonight? Only got the hour til Jodi wants you home.” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m going, I’m going,” Sam waves him off, clearing his throat loudly and setting up against the table. He angles the cue stick, hovers, gives it a good few practice moves across the bridge of his hand… Something about how stubbornly determined he is almost concerns Sebastian. 

The ball is struck and sets into motion, rolling across the surface, the black number flashing under the lights...and anticlimactically, peters to a halt against the cushions. Sam groans in frustration, dropping his forehead against the table and making all the balls sunk in the pockets jump and clack together. Sebastian grins wide now. 

“You gave it your best,” he assures, moving towards the rack of cue sticks against the back of the wall in a move to replace his. 

“Hey there, game’s not over yet,” Sam says, pointing expectantly at the remaining cue and 8-ball. “You have to at least end it so we know for sure.” 

Sebastain rolls his eyes high, but comes back, taking in a deep breath and settling his feet against the floor. “What’s even the point? It’s all too easy and you know it, I was going to give you a free pass on this one, maybe even could have been left open-ended, told Vince you finally won, but _noooo_ someone just has to be put in their place,” he teases, biting his lip as he rests the stick in the space between his index finger and thumb. He never gets tired of this, though, winning their weekly pool game and laughing over the disaster that was Sam’s playing on their way out. All in good fun, of course, though it’s a miracle Sam’s not just letting him win. 

Sebastian draws back, creating the necessary tension to be released and send the ball in a perfect English shot, right into the pocket, and finish the game. It’s a perfectly clear shot and he could do it with his eyes closed. In fact, maybe he _will_ — 

Right before he can take the shot, the saloon door crashes open against the wall, rattling the building and causing most of its current occupants to flinch at the ruckus. The door is then slammed again, this time shut against the rain and Sebastian peers around the corner to see whoever the patron is. 

“I’m sorry! Oh I’m really sorry,” yelps none other than the valley’s newest resident, the farmer. 

She’d taken up occupancy in the abandoned plot outside of town a bit, to Sebastian’s slight disappointment; the place had some good ponds over there teeming with frogs, though he keeps this information to himself. But here she is now, drenched from the rain, straw hat soggy and threatening to drop off her head, holding a backpack out in front of her. Gus frowns at the puddle growing around her feet. 

“Jus’ watch yer strength next time,” Willy warns, seeming particularly shaken up by the disturbance. But if it bothers him long, he doesn’t show it, because she’s placed some mineral in his hands and he thanks her politely, warranting a small smile. 

_Oh, not this again,_ Sebastian thinks, recalling less than fondly the daffodil she’d handed him last week. Sure, they make good gifts for most but one, he can’t do the pollen, and two, yellow is such a nasty color. And engaging in the small talk was difficult, to say the least. He’d prefer to keep to himself. 

She makes her rounds, depositing small gifts with the rest of the saloon before reaching the back. Abby takes a shiny amethyst with glee, thanking the soaking farmer with a pat on her squelching shoulder. Sebastian cringes, glad he’s brought his umbrella. As much as he likes the rain, cold and damp is a recipe for lying sick in bed for the next few days and he despises needing Robin to look after him. Well, outwardly he does, anyways. 

Sam’s face lights up at the Joja cola she hands him, as though he hadn’t had several over the course of the day anyways. But that’s classic Sam, you could give him nearly anything and he’d be happy to have it. 

And lastly, the short, mousy-haired woman turns to him, continually pausing to wipe water off her face. She frowns, rummaging through the many pouches of the bag with a mutter of _where is it_ before she exclaims in triumph. 

She smiles softly at Sebastian, extending her hand almost uncertainly. He’s tempted to slip in a snarky “I don’t bite” comment, but he withholds it, noticing how her apprehension seems nearly comparable to his own. He doesn’t blame her; he knows he looks standoffish and he kind of wants it that way. She shyly takes his hand and he reluctantly uncurls his fingers to receive whatever it is, fearing the worst as her chilled skin brushes his. 

She’s dropped into his palm nothing other than a beautiful blue crystal, smooth and shimmering slightly like snow in the sun, a frozen tear. His favorite, their shape and story like some kind of melancholy metaphor to him, symbolic in their own way. He feels the beginnings of a smile on his face but bites it down. Can’t give in that easily. 

“I uh...I really love this. How— how’d you know?” he asks a bit suspiciously. His friends show no signs of having given him away, so maybe Robin? _No, Mom is usually better than that._

The farmer blushes, head tipping down, the brim of her hat blocking her face. “Oh, um, lucky guess? Good— glad you do!” 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, eyes flicking away as he feels that pressure building in his chest. Oh Yoba, he’s already messed it up, not even a simple thank you in return. It should be so easy, and yet, nothing like this ever is to him. 

Though, maybe there’s a chance to fix this. She’s clearly trying pretty hard to get on people’s good sides and not in an obnoxious way. Robin would be a little disappointed if he didn’t even try, because he’s sure to hear about this whenever the farmer stops by the shop for supplies. She’s just an odd relatability to her, though he knows it can’t be all she is. She really does seem...decent. Is one way of putting this odd feeling tugging at him. 

“Wh— what’s your name?” he stutters, immediately embarrassed he has to ask. He’s sure she told him already, but his memory is rough, especially with new faces, even though they’re rare around here. He quickly glances at his companions, but it seems they’ve missed it, thankfully. 

“Iris. Good luck with the game!” she calls, waving over her shoulder and dashing for the exit as though her life depends on it. She’s gone before he can say another word, leaving behind just the gifts and puddles as evidence that she was here, even briefly. 

_I never even told her my name._

“Hello? Earth to Seb? I need to be home soon,” Sam says, sing-songy, arms crossed over his chest. Sebastian huffs. 

“Yeah, one second then we’ll put this away.” Sebastian lines himself up again, easy, simple as anything, readying for a strike— 

But he’s just a little distracted by that smile, the small smudge of dirt on her cheek, the bright eyes despite the general disastrous nature of everything else. There’s something more to this feeling, though he’s not entirely sure he wants to explore it. Yet. 

_What in Yoba’s name, Seb, that’s moronic, finish the game already,_ he tells himself, shaking himself from his stupor. 

He breathes in, draws back, confident and cool as always. This will be easy. 

The white of the cue ball as the stick draws closer reminds him a bit of daisies, kind of like the one Iris had pinned to her hat, an interesting choice if you asked him because the hat itself was already a lot— _but what the hell do flowers have to do with anything? And why am I still thinking about her? It was just a stupid rock._

And in that moment, he’s released and shot and missed spectacularly, the stick bumped out of alignment ruining his aim, sending the cue ball flying across the table with determination, straight into the far corner pocket and sinking with a soft _clink_. The 8-ball rolls lazily away against the cushions, the number like a face rotating upwards, taunting him with the loss. 

“I won!” Sam crows. “I won! Sebastian actually lost a game of pool TO ME! LOOK ABBY I WON!” 

As his friends erupt in incredulous shouts, Sebastian stares blankly at the table, utterly dumbfounded. 

_This is going to be a problem._


End file.
